Harry Potter and Morrighan's Gift
by Adrence
Summary: Harry dies after deafeating Voldemort and is offered a second chance by the Goddess Morrighan. Will he be able to defeat Voldemort again? Story is a continuation of ideas from Aya Machhiato's Harry Potter and Morrighan's Gift with permission.
1. Morrighan

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Co. belong to J.K. Rowling.**

**A/N: This story was not originally mine; it was Aya Macchiato's. I'm writing a story with her ideas in mind in the beginning.**

**~1~**

A dark haired young woman stood seemingly in the middle of nowhere and stared off into the distance, observing an event unseen by the mortal eye. The area surrounding her glowed faintly, a contrast to the white nothingness of the setting. Her beautiful face was marred only by the presence of a frown. Abruptly, she broke the silence which had hung thick and impenetrable.

"Curses! My unfortunate servant has attracted the ire of the Moirae… Something must be done." So she sat and thought. She would attempt to remedy the situation, she decided. The boy had delivered to her the 10th essence of Tom Marvolo Riddle, leaving only one more to be harvested. However, that last piece was unlikely to be hers, thanks to the games of the Moirae, the weavers of fate. She craved the whole, final 11th essence; Riddle would rue the day he had decided to snub her. She was ready to put a plan in motion.

Harry Potter materialized. He wore tattered black robes, beneath which a blue T-shirt and dark jeans could be spotted. His face was flushed, his left cheek and jet black hair matted with dirt and sweat. His famous emerald eyes were currently closed and his wire frame glasses were askew. Within moments however, there was a flutter of eyelashes. Morrighan watched as his face scrunched up in a sort of grimace and he pulled himself up into a sitting position.

It was easy for her to read his thoughts; Morrighan had just witnessed his tragic demise and could understand his frustration. She decided to make her presence known as he began to glance around in confusion.

"It _is_ quite sad, isn't it?" She commented in reference to the events that had landed Harry in her realm. She watched, amused, as he attempted to visually pin point her.

"Who's there?" Harry called, ignoring a pang of fear. Viridian eyes feverishly raked the area in hopes of finding the speaker. Morrighan shifted into a form that she found comfortable and allowed him to see her; Harry recoiled slightly in shock.

"Uh… hello?" he hesitantly asked. Harry hadn't expected to see a crow standing a mere few feet away from him, its head cocked to the side, beady eyes examining his every move.

"Hello, Harry Potter." The 'crow' replied.

"Er… Who are you?" he asked cautiously.

"I am often called the Phantom Queen, the Death Queen, and occasionally called a goddess of war, death, and prophecy. You may call me Queen Morrighan."

"Ok-ay," Harry replied slowly. Maybe he hadn't been hit by the killing curse? Maybe he was fine and was having a strange potion induced dream… "Um… where am I?"

"Location is irrelevant. Such mortal judgments do not hold true in my home."

"Am I dead?" he finally questioned, bewilderment giving way to exhaustion. It seemed that there was no respite from his adventures.

"You are for now."

"_For now? _ What does that mean?"

"As I stated earlier, your end was rather unfortunate. You were on the cusp of freedom yet the Fates robbed you of it with an unworthy killing curse. Disappointing, really."

The Boy-Who-Lived let out a bitter laugh, looking at the inscrutable crow with sardonic amusement. "Well, I can't argue with you there…"

"I have deemed you worthy of a new beginning," Queen Morrighan stated bluntly.

"Meaning what, exactly?" Harry wasn't interested in accepting any deal from a goddess without major clarification. Hermione had told him tales of gods who played with mortal lives for their own amusement. He knew what sort of shit they pulled— the goddess of prophecy especially, considering his life.

"The world you left behind shall move on. The Dark Wizard Voldemort has perished there, thanks to your efforts. His followers will fall apart without him. Those who survived shall build a world in your honor. They shall mourn you but live on. You fulfilled your destiny; you saved the world."

"But here I am." Harry muttered, surveying his surroundings with distaste.

"Indeed. You are dead and at such a young age… What I have to offer you is a second chance. You will be a child in another world. The world that you would go to is a world devoid of your essence. It's Boy-Who-Lived died at the age of five."

"Huh? Wait, _how_?" Harry asked, flabbergasted.

"He was pushed down a flight of stairs and broke his neck."

Harry frowned before anger overcame his features. "Dudley." He growled, eyes narrowing.

"Correct." Morrighan felt slightly sorry for that. However, she understood it had been for the best; the boy had begun to grow vengeful… to an extent that was eerily similar to Riddle. And the last thing she wanted was another dark one tarnishing the reputation of her realm.

"So…" Harry began tentatively, "You want me to take his place?"

"Yes. No one in that world is capable of destroying the essence of Voldemort. If you are willing to go and complete your destiny again, you will have the opportunity to live a second life. Ideally, this one will last much, much longer. Also, you will have the advantage of retaining all of your knowledge, experience, and magical strength."

Harry was engrossed in thought. "I suppose it would be a lot easier the second time around. I actually know what the hell I'm doing now. I can stop things from happening…. Save people from dying…. Stop Quirrell in my first year…"

The goddess mentally sighed. Apparently this boy did not understand the idea of an alternative universe. "There are more things different in this world than just you having died at age five."

Harry's attention immediately snapped back on her. "What sort of _things_?" he asked suspiciously.

"All sorts." supplied the Queen cryptically.

"Can you give me a _specific_ example?" wheedled the ever persistent Harry.

"The defense position is not jinxed in this world."

"It's not? What does that mean?" Harry questioned, half expecting an answer. He was met with silence. "Okay... well, the reason the defense position was jinxed was because Tom Riddle applied for the job and Dumbledore turned him down…. Wait, so if the job isn't jinxed, that means Voldemort never applied for it, right?"

The Queen deemed him worthy of a nod.

"If he never applied for the job... wait, that means that the diadem isn't in the Room of Requirement!" exclaimed Harry in realization.

"True."

"Shit," Harry grumbled, rolling his eyes. "So I'm assuming that Quirrell won't be the defense teacher my first year then because the position isn't jinxed."

"Yes."

"Well at least I won't have to deal with Lockhart… bloody annoying, that man was… if Quirrell isn't the Defense teacher, does that mean he won't be the one possessed? Will there be _anyone_ possessed? Is the Philosopher's Stone even at Hogwarts my first year?" Silence.

He sighed, running his hand through his messy hair. "I guess I see how some little things can have more significantrepercussions."

"Quite so."

He sighed again, closing his eyes. Suddenly he wished Hermione was with him. She would have been able to understand this much better. He opened his eyes again and observed the crow warily. Why did strange things happen to him? He couldn't even die the normal way.

"Am I taking the place of the five-year old that got pushed down the stairs?" Harry repeated, hoping to receive as much clarification as possible before he committed himself to anything. He really was not looking forward to being a 5 year old with the Dursleys again, particularly since these Dursleys had actually managed to kill him.

"No," the Queen answered.

"No?" Harry echoed in surprise.

"You will be going back at the age of ten, the summer before your first year."

Harry's eyebrows were scrunched as he tried to wrap his mind around what exactly this meant. "Will I just appear out of nowhere at the Dursley's place? I really don't imagine that going over too well."

"I suspect you are correct."

"How's this going to go then?" Harry prompted impatiently.

"I cannot concoct a past for you."

"You mean I don't have to go there as Harry Potter?" Harry questioned, eyebrows shooting up as he realized the implications of the Phantom Queen's statement.

"Harry Potter is dead in this world."

"I don't have to be the Boy-Who-Lived," Harry whispered under his breath, feeling for exhalation for the first time since his arrival as he thought of all the staring and whispering that had been his constant companion since he had first entered the wizarding world. Being able to avoid all that and maintain some semblance of normality was enticing.

He would need to invent a plausible past. That wouldn't be so hard, would it?

"The acceptance letters from Hogwarts are sent out magically," he began slowly. "They're addressed automatically. The names of magical children are added to the book by some big crazy advanced charm. Won't my name just suddenly show up as Harry Potter?"

"You're name will be yours to choose, I will arrange that much."

"But what about money? I mean... I guess I can go in under the scholarship program for my tuition but that's not going to leave me any spending cash."

"The goblins answer to no one." Morrighan stated. Harry stared at her in confusion.

"Huh? What's that supposed to mean?"

"By blood you will still be Harry Potter. Blood is all you need to gain access to the frozen Potter vaults."

"You're suggesting I go to the goblins as Harry Potter and get the trust money? But... do I play the orphan card, or muggleborn, or—"

"The choice is yours."

He heaved a long slow sigh, wondering if he was completely insane for even contemplating this. "What happens if I turn this down?"

She smirked slightly; he would not turn this down, not if she had any say in this. But knowing her servant well, he would be unwilling to do anything unless he saw it as a product of his own will. He had come a long way from the young boy of 15 who had simply let a prophecy dictate his entire life. So she settled on a less than honest response. He wouldn't know the difference anyway.

"You move on. The next great adventure awaits you," She paused artfully. "However, this world will suffer greatly without your aid."

"Oh, _great_. Just pull the guilt card on me. _Thanks_," Harry grumbled sarcastically. He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Am I still going to look like _me?_ Because everyone always remarked on how much I looked like my dad. And the scar is a dead giveaway... oh crap; what about the Horcrux in my head? Is that going to come back?"

Morrighan was pleased with his questioning; he was already thinking ahead, having dismissed the possibility of not going.

"The piece of Tom Riddle's soul that was split off and implanted into this world's Harry Potter passed on when this Harry Potter died. You've already rid yourself of Tom Riddle's soul."

"That's a relief! But what about the whole appearance thing?" He asked, gesturing at his face.

"You live in a world of magic, figure something out. I can only return you to your ten-year-old body."

Harry silently grumbled under his breath before moving on. "Fine, I can work with that. I've gotten pretty good at glamours and human transfiguration the last few years..."

"You accept my offer?"

Harry was about to answer in affirmative before he heard a voice in his head, which sounded remarkably like Hermione, asking him to question the Queen's motives. After all, how often did goddesses make offers without a definite motive to mortals?

"I want to know why you're doing this. Why do you care about Voldemort? Or me, for that matter. Lots of people have suffered during the war. There've been plenty of sad deaths. Why am _I_ receiving this offer?"

"You are prophesized to kill Voldemort. Without you all those people in the other world will be doomed."

Harry snorted. "Why would you care, you're the goddess of death! Why don't you kill Voldemort yourself?"

"I cannot interfere with the fate written by the Moirae to that extent." Morrighan responded grudgingly, no doubt upset that her power was not absolute.

"If it's fated for Voldemort to win in that world, sending me there would be interfering…"

"This is different! You can lose. Besides, the prophecy I made said that you could only be killed at the hands of the other. It was ignored by the Moirae. For that, I must send you back. I will not let my power be overlooked!" Pride in her power was perhaps not the best way to appeal to the war veteran in front of her. Sighing softly, Morrighan continued, hoping to appeal to his sense of morality, "Do you not wish for those people to be saved?"

"Why should I care about them? I've already saved my world." Harry didn't honestly believe this was sound reasoning, but he knew that he had to play it cool to get more information. It was something he had done with the Dursley's quite a few times when he had been younger. Pretend like you don't like gardening as a way to get them to send you outside to do it… _away from them_.

"Those people are part of the same person. There are eleven worlds, eleven essences, as all souls are represented through an essence in each world. What you saved was an eleventh of the whole soul. The last essence of Voldemort is in the world I am sending you to. Once that is killed, then all of Voldemort is truly defeated. The prophecy is complete."

"He lived, I died; isn't that it?"

"No, as your soul is not wholly put together yet. The other essences of you have defeated him. Only four out of eleven of your essences are here. If Voldemort remains victorious, then he will eventually be reborn in the other worlds. And since time passes, you will age, die and be reborn to battle him once more. One of you must be _completely_ killed in _all_ of the worlds to fulfill the prophecy. I would much rather have him be here then you. Enough questions. I will ask you once more: _Do you accept my offer_?"

Harry wondered if he was going to regret this. But then, if this would kill Voldemort once and for all, then _why not_? Plus he would have a chance to save people who he had not been able to save before and according to what the goddess had just explained, the Voldemort he had just killed in his world would be reborn after enough time passed...Which meant that all he had done was bring the wizarding world a limited time of peace. After a moment he nodded, although grudgingly. Curse his hero complex!

"Excellent. When you wake, you will have twenty-four hours to decide upon your new name. It will be marked down in the school's roster and when the acceptance letters are sent, you shall receive yours by that name. You will have no Ministry Trace upon your body to detect or punish under-aged magic; however, you will not have your wand either. Best of luck to you, Harry Potter. The fate of this world rests on your able shoulders."

Suddenly, Harry felt as if he were falling, and the white misty abyss that surrounded him grew dark and cloudy. A swirling pitch black vortex encased him and he fell and fell and _fell_...

**~1~**


	2. Knockturn Alley and Reflections

**Disclaimer: Characters and the settings don't belong to me; I'm not making any monetary profit from this.**

**~2~**

Harry woke up wet, cold, slightly groggy, and completely naked in a grassy field. From the position of the sun, he could see it was very early in the morning. He stared in exasperation at a few cows that were calming grazing.

'_Oh well, this is just great,'_ he grumbled to himself as he surveyed his surroundings. He felt horribly exposed and desperately wished for some sort of covering as a cool breeze blew on his naked body.

Harry noticed that he still had his glasses and wondered how it worked that he was able to appear with his glasses intact but not any _clothing_. He didn't doubt for a moment that fate was just doing the naked thing to fuck with him.

After a few minutes of awkward travel, he found himself at a farm house. He eyed the full clothesline which swayed gently as a cold wind blew. Harry didn't feel great about stealing but desperate times called for desperate measures. After checking to make sure that no one was around, he darted out of the tall grass and over to the assorted clothing, quickly swiping some of the clothing.

It was at this point that he truly became aware of his size.

'_Ten bloody years old! Merlin, I hate being small again.'_

He ended up wearing a pair of jeans that were several sizes too big, and a plain black shirt that he was pretty sure was intended for a woman. It was one of those 'baby doll' shirts that would cling tightly to a woman's chest. What this meant for him was that it was only _slightly_ loose on his malnourished ten-year-old body.

'_Beggars can't be choosers, I suppose…'_

He found a length of rope nearby and tied it around his waist. He _hated_ that; it reminded him strongly of his old, desperate life with the Dursleys. Clothing was definitely going to have to be one of the first things he dealt with.

He was still barefoot but at least he wasn't naked anymore. With one final look around, Harry decided that apparition was his best bet. He focused on the apparition zone in the back of Knockturn Alley that was out of the way and usually deserted, turned on the spot and vanished with a quiet crack.

He was thankful that it was so early. Knockturn Alley was always empty in the early mornings; its normal clientele was more of a night-time crowd. He kept his head ducked low and hurried through the winding roads until he came to the exit which led into Diagon Alley and was greeted with the sight of the large, white marble, goblin's bank looming in the background.

Taking advantage of the deserted shopping district, Harry scurried up the stairs and into the bank. There was a lonesome wizard inside who appeared too preoccupied to give Harry any notice. Harry hurried over to one of the open tellers and stood on his tip-toes to try to see over the counter.

The goblin stared down his long, crooked nose at him with the ever present air of annoyance goblins were well known for.

"Can I help you?" the goblin asked dryly, staring at Harry with disinterest bordering on disdain.

"Can you do a blood test to confirm my identity so I can gain access to my vaults? I don't have my key with me." Harry explained, recalling Morrighan's words.

"Of course. It would require the use of a special blood quill."

"What if the vaults in question are frozen because you guys think I'm dead? Would the blood quill be enough to prove my claim?"

The goblin raised a single eyebrow giving Harry a rather dubious look. "The quill would be sufficient. However, if our records have indicated your death, then you are indeed _dead_."

Harry gave the goblin a deadpanned stare. "I seem pretty alive, don't you think? Can we do the test now?"

The goblin sighed before stepping down from behind his elevated podium and heading towards a door. "Yes, follow me."

Harry trailed behind the goblin through a door way and several convoluted hallways before the goblin stopped and gestured towards a chair in the room they had arrived at.

"Have a seat. I will be with you shortly."

Harry did as he was told with no delay while the goblin disappeared to go retrieve the needed items. After a minute he returned with a wood-backed, framed piece of blank parchment as well as a small, long, wooden box. He set the mentioned items on the desk in front of Harry.

"Inside the box is a blood quill," He explained, tapping the aforementioned item. "It will make use of your blood to write and may be mildly painful, but the wound will heal immediately following use."

Harry nodded to show his understanding but couldn't help but grimace, recalling memories from his 5th year.

"The paper is charmed. You will write your name on it and if it identifies it as your given name, then it will absorb the letters and list any vaults you have with us. If you are not who you claim to be, the name that you wrote will be burned off the parchment. Is that clear?"

"Quite." Harry confirmed.

The goblin took out the quill from the box and handed it to Harry, who scribbled his name on the charmed parchment.

The goblin watched him with disinterest but Harry could see his eyes widen as he wrote out 'Harry James Potter'. The goblin's surprised eyes immediately traveled up to examine Harry's forehead. Harry scowled lightly at the motion and focused on the parchment before him.

The letters slowly seeped into the cream colored parchment. Soon, the words 'Vault 687: Harry Potter Trust Account', and 'Vault 809: Potter Family Estate' graced the top. Harry felt slightly uneasy, remembering Riddle's diary had acted in a similar fashion. Perhaps he had even gotten the idea for the diary from here? Voldemort must have at one point attempted to see if he had any vaults left to him or, at the very least, to see which families he was related to.

The goblin's eyes darted disbelievingly from the parchment to Harry and back again several times before he managed to collect himself. Noticing this, Harry recognized the need for secrecy in this matter. It seemed as though the death of Harry Potter was common knowledge… He had thought that Dumbledore may have kept the knowledge to himself but that apparently was not the case.

"I trust we can keep this confidential…?" Harry inquired pointedly.

The goblin immediately took on an air of professionalism. "We have the utmost regard for our client's privacy," he assured.

Harry grinned. "Excellent! Can I get copies made of my vault keys?"

"You will not gain access to the family estate vault until you come of age."

"The keys to my trust account are available to me, correct?"

The goblin nodded in confirmation. Harry paused, considering.

"How much money do I have in my trust fund? Is there a cap on withdrawals?"

"I don't have the details of your accounts with me. It'll only take a second to retrieve them," replied the goblin before getting up and exiting the room. Harry didn't have to wait long before the goblin came back, a navy blue folder in his wrinkled, worn hands.

"This is the Potter bank file," the goblin stated as he passed it to Harry, who took it with interest. "The account has been frozen for the past eight years. As such, it has accumulated quite a nice sum of interest."

Harry opened the folder and shifted through the papers. He inspected the list of properties carefully; they were the same in this world as they had been in his. He flipped to the next page, which listed the balance of the Potter family vault. It held a sum total of 2.3 million galleons while the trust fund contained half a million… A cap of 25 thousand yearly, not counting Hogwarts tuition and living expenses... special permission needed from his guardian to withdraw more... it was all the same.

Enough money for his personal purposes but not enough, he knew, to fund some sort of resistance. He had found out the hard way about the importance of money in regards to war. He smirked when he reached the investments section.

"I was wondering if I can invest some of my trust money."

"Yes, you can. It is yours to do with as you please. However, I should caution you, investing is a challenge and can be quite risky…" warned the goblin, eyeing Harry warily.

"I'm aware of the risks. Could I perhaps owl you my requests when I've got some ideas?"

"Yes. Simply owl Gringotts with your name and trust fund number and it will be taken care of."

"Awesome." Harry grinned as he closed the file, handing it back to the goblin. "I'm also going to need to create a new account under a different name, transfer money from the trust account into it and arrange for money to be sent from _that _account to Hogwarts for my tuition… is that feasible?"

The goblin looked at him with a poker face. "It can be arranged. What name should this other account be under?"

Harry ran his hand through his hair, contemplating possible names. He had used quite a few aliases while he had been in hiding. All he needed to do now was pick one that he felt comfortable enough with to use as his main name… A flash of inspiration hit him and he suddenly knew which one he would choose.

"Orion Aubrey," Harry stated firmly.

"Very well, I will make the necessary arrangements."

Soon, Harry had finished his business with the goblin and withdrawn some gold. On his way out, Harry slipped into Gringott's public restroom. He soaked his hair with the cool water flowing freely from the tap, trying to force his fringe to completely cover his scar. He felt a stab of irritation as his hair simply sprung up after a minute, stubborn and wild. Sighing, he examined his reflection critically, unsure of how he was going to pass unnoticed in the crowd of magical beings that would soon flood Diagon Alley.

He hadn't had time to practice wandless magic extensively in his world. The war had consumed all of his energy and focus; he had been a sort of general, the icon of the resistance. It had been hard enough to fit sleep into his schedule_,_ let alone time to practice something as draining as wandless magic.

He needed a wand, pronto. Then he could throw up some glamours and concentrate on his other needs. The question was... _where?_ Olivander had that weird way of _knowing_ who someone was. Plus, any wands from Olivander sold to an underage wizard would come with a tracking charm. He could remove it but it would take him a couple days and it would be difficult to do so without the aid of _another _wand…

Knockturn Alley it was. Perhaps he wouldn't be able to find a perfect match, considering the difficulties involved with getting his first wand, but at the very least he would have a temporary wand and could work from there.

Giving up on his hair, he walked out of Gringotts hoping no one would notice him. It was still early in the morning, only 6, but now people were beginning to trickle into the market place.

As soon as he reached Knockturn Alley, unobstructed and unnoticed to his great relieve, he headed straight for the only wand shop he knew of.

Harry stepped inside and a bell over the door jingled. The place was poorly lit and dusty, not an unusual occurrence for a shop in Knockturn Alley. The walls were filled, floor-to-ceiling, with small wand-sized boxes.

"Hello, young man," an elderly female voice greeted from a small doorway at the back. Harry examined her as she stepped into a better lighted area. He knew this lady; her name was Evelyn Schmichler, a half blood German immigrant who had escaped from the horror that had been Nazi Germany. She had been a valuable ally to the resistance. After Ollivander had been taken and killed by Voldemort, this kind lady became the sole maker of wands for the resistance. Voldemort had sent quite a few Death Eaters to kill her but she had been guarded well. If it weren't for her contributions, Harry doubted the war could have been fought for as long as it did and with as few light casualties.

"Hello," Harry replied with a small smile. "I'd like a wand."

She inspected him with amusement, taking note of his child like features and stature. "Then I suppose you've arrived at a helpful destination."

"I'd like a wand without a tracking charm, to be more specific."

"_Definitely_ in the correct place." she announced with a wry grin.

"Excellent. I'll tell you right now that I'm probably going to be a hard person to match."

Her curiosity peaked. "Have you had a wand matched to you before?"

Harry knew he probably looked younger than 10 to her. His body was skinny and malnourished, thanks to the Dursleys' hospitality, and his pre-pubescent voice did nothing to diminish his childlike image.

"Maybe I have. Maybe I haven't." He answered cryptically.

She rolled her hazel eyes, a smile playing on her thin lips. "In the interest of saving time, what were the components of this wand that may or may not have existed?"

"There _may_ have been more than one. The wood of the first might have been holly with a phoenix feather, while the second could have been elder with a thestral tail hair."

"Those are very different wands," Evelyn mused quietly as she hobbled over to the wall of boxes. She paused and examined him with narrowed eyes. "Elder and thestral hair, you say? How curious..." She turned back and began plucking boxes here and there from the walls of wands. Harry stood in silence, content to observe her actions as she drifted from one portion of the wall to another, occasionally muttering an indistinct phrase. Finally, gathering up a small collection in her arms, she set them down on the counter, instructing Harry to go through them.

Harry didn't even bother to flick most of them. Holding them in his fingers for a moment was enough for him to tell if they were compatible with his magic. Evelyn kept making additional trips to put some wands away while bringing out others. Finally, after nearly forty minutes of trying different wands, he found one that felt right.

He held it in his fingers and sighed as the warmth of the wand traveled up his arm to his core. The wand practically seemed to hum in his hand. "This one," he declared with a confident smile as he examined the black polished wood. "What is it?"

"Yew and a serpent scale core. Twelve and a half inches."

Harry's eyebrows disappeared into his fringe at this revelation. It took him a moment to recuperate from the mild shock of it. "What kind of serpent?"

"A runespore, I believe."

"Oh..." Harry said, feeling rather stunned.

He had no idea what to make of thatbut decided not to worry about it too much for now, despite the fact that the wand was likely meant for a true _dark wizard_… He suddenly wondered if he was still a Parselmouth. He hadn't even tried to make use of the skill since he'd undergone the ritual that destroyed the horcrux that had been embedded in his soul so he honestly didn't know if the skill had stayed with him or if it was gone. Perhaps he could visit a pet shop soon.

"Uh... right. How much?" He asked Evelyn, who had been watching him silently.

"Twelve galleons."

Harry pulled out some coins from the money pouch the goblin at Gringotts had given him. Suddenly remembering that he looked too young to be carrying around a wand, he asked if there were some holsters available that could keep it hidden.

Evelyn plucked a holster from under her desk and handed it to him. "Here you are. That'll be an extra five galleon. It has an anti-accio charm, and a couple of charms along the same vein, such as a notice-me-not and disillusionment charm." Harry nodded and handed her the coins, smilingly thanking her before walking out of the shop, purchases in hand.

Stepping out of Knockturn Alley with his new wand, Harry felt slightly more secure. He ducked into a public restroom in Diagon Alley and spent a few minutes in front of a mirror making adjustments to his appearance. He would go with glamours for now but would probably try some actual human transfigurations after he had more time to dedicate to the task. A physical transfiguration would stand up better to counter spells and he wouldn't have to worry about it wearing off every day.

Harry chose not to do anything drastic. He left his hair black but altered its length, making it fall just below shoulder length with a gently wave at the bottom. Next he smoothed out the skin of his forehead, wiping out the famous scar that had haunted him his entire life. This was a transfiguration that he had only been able to do since he had rid himself of the horcrux. His curse scar had always been incredibly stubborn to cover up before that but once the curse was gone it behaved like a normal scar.

He made a few small changes to the shape of his jaw; made his cheek bones a little higher and made the shape of his eyes rounder, choosing to leave them the emerald color they had always been. Then, after frowning at his reflection for another minute, he gave his skin a much tanner complexion. The changes were small but when added together, they made him look decidedly different. At the very least he wasn't a James Potter clone, which was what was really important.

A few more flicks of his new wand, and his stolen wardrobe was transformed into a set of black wizards' robes with a cerulean blue embroidered trim. Next, he conjured himself some socks and trainers. They wouldn't last very long but they would hold up long enough for him to buy some real supplies.

Satisfied with his disguise, Harry departed from the small bathroom. Now that he had addressed his major concerns, he walked slowly and examined Diagon Alley, enjoying feeling the sun on his skin and the happy atmosphere of the area as more people began to arrive. Moments like these had been impossible to come by in his war torn world.

Harry wandered over to Madame Malkin's shop to purchase clothes that weren't conjured up. He would need them once he started Hogwarts. He ended up buying a nice set of robes as well as a pair of loafers and was out in 15 minutes flat.

Next, he found himself in a shop that sold trunks and the like. After a few minutes searching, he decided to just wait until later to get a trunk for Hogwarts. He didn't really need a trunk, they were hard to lug around; the war had taught him that convenience was best. He would get a muggle backpack while he was in London.

After exploring a few more shops, he headed to the Leaky Cauldron to get a room, as well as some lunch.

**~2~**

Harry was lying on his bed contemplating the insanity of his life. Just 24 hours ago he had been in a brutal battle. He had killed Voldemort, the tricky bastard… and _then,_ within 2 minutes, he had been killed, courtesy of_ Bellatrix LeStrange. _

The memory of his defeat left a sour taste in Harry's mouth. After he had killed Voldemort, after years of hard work, seeing his friends die, facing death every day, all the torture he endured… that bloody bitch had killed him with a killing curse to the back! He still remembered the roar of anguish that had erupted from her when he had killed her master. It had been the last thing he heard. Oh yes, he would have to pay her back for that in this world. In the slowest, most excruciatingly painful way possible. He would make her beg to be killed...

Honestly, the whole thing had been rather anti-climactic. And then Harry had found himself in front of a talking crow who turned out to be the goddess that had trapped him with the whole prophecy business in the _first place_! It was all absurd.

Morrighan… To think his whole life had been defined by one goddess who apparently had a grudge of some sorts against Riddle. Thanks to her meddling, he was 10 years old again, waiting for his Hogwarts letter as _Orion Aubrey_.

At least as Orion Aubrey he would be able to avoid the whispers, stares, and double standards that had followed him as Harry Potter. He would be _normal_. Or at least as normal as a 19 (almost 20) year old, in the body of a 10 year old, from another dimension sent on a mission to kill old snake eyes (_again!)_ could be.

Harry had a lot of plans whirling around in his head that he was itching to set into motion. Especially plans regarding Sirius, who was currently stuck in Azkaban being _tortured_ by dementors. Orion Aubrey actually had a lot to do with those plans. He had chosen this name in particular because of a story Remus had told him about Sirius's past. He was working on the assumption that certain details were the same here as they had been in his own world.

Remus had told Harry the story one night when they were both holed up in Shell Cottage with a number of other Order members, about a year and a half before the final battle.

There had been a Slytherin named Bertram Aubrey in their year whom Sirius had hated as much as, if not more than, Severus Snape. He had bullied and teased the boy mercilessly all throughout Hogwarts.

Snape had been singled out by James Potter because Snape had been such close friends with Lily Evans – whom James had fancied. Aubrey was singled out by Sirius because of his twin sister, a girl named Erin, who had been a Gryffindor. Bertram, being a Slytherin, had considered his sister a disgrace to the family. Erin was apparently one of the more timid Gryffindors and she had taken her brother's abuse without protest. Sirius had seen her as a kindred spirit of sorts, since they both came from Dark families and had been sorted into a predominantly 'light' house. So he had stood up for her by tormenting her brother.

It had helped Harry to understand that there were some vaguely reasonable motives behind his father and godfather's torment of certain students at the school, although that had not justified their actions completely. He was still rather unhappy with the idea of them being such bullies, but it was in the past and he'd come to terms with it.

The interesting thing about all of this, however, was the fact that even after graduation Sirius had kept in touch with Erin Aubrey. Sirius was a ladies man and was never one for settling down but Remus told Harry that during Sirius's last year, while confined to Grimmauld Place, he had confided in Remus that he and Erin had had an on-and-off thing for years. Sirius had even made plans to look her up again if he ever managed to prove his innocence. That plan had been thrashed when he learned that she had gone missing only a few months after he got sent to Azkaban.

It was this story that had first inspired the fake identity that Harry had created. Of course, it would really only work if the same set of events had happened in _this_ world. If Erin Aubrey hadn't disappeared here, he was going to have to scramble for a different idea.

The idea was fairly simple: He would pretend to be the illegitimate bastard child of Sirius Black. The story would be that Erin Aubrey had had gotten pregnant with Sirius' child but had decided not to tell him. She'd realized that Sirius was not one for settling down, plus he was an Auror and Order member and was deeply involved with the war. Erin hadn't wanted her child to have anything to do with the war so she'd kept the child secret from everyone, including Sirius. She had, however, chosen to honor Sirius by sticking with the Black family constellation-based naming system – thus the first name '_Orion'_.

Harry would say that he and his mum had gone abroad and stayed uninformed about the events in England. But when his 'mum' had died a year ago, he had decided to come back to Britain in hopes of proving his father innocent because Erin had always been convinced that Sirius could never have really betrayed his best mate, James Potter.

In Harry's world, the real Erin Aubrey had _disappeared_ – not necessarily _died –_ although most assumed the latter. No one had known what had happened to her, so it gave Harry a family tree to claim attachment to without having to worry about those pesky papers to prove it. Erin Aubrey had been an outcast in her primarily dark family for her affiliation with the Light side and her refusal to follow her family into the war. It would make sense for her to run off and vanish with her child if she was hoping to keep it away from all that. This story would also explain away why Harry would bother trying to get Sirius freed without anyone calling his motives into question.

With these foundational details laid out in his mind, Harry allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

**~2~**

Harry woke up 3 hours later, despite having been emotionally and physically exhausted before his nap. This was a consequence of having lived through a war where sleeping a few hours had been a rare privilege.

He got up, stretched, and walked to the bathroom where he splashed his face with cold water. It was strange to see a ten year old peering back at him when yesterday he had been a nineteen year old with stubble and war scars. Shaking his head at the oddity, he took off his conjured robe and threw on one he had bought from Madam Malkin's that morning and slipped on his shoes. It was time to do some research.

For six hours, Harry had been buried in the history section of the Ministry's Public Magical Library. He was attempting to reacquaint himself with any glaring deviations between this world and his own. There weren't many in regards to history that he could find. But then again, history had never been his forte. For all he knew, something might have changed and he simply hadn't noticed.

To his pleasure, the building beside the library was the Magical Genealogy and Family Tree Preservation Center which housed copies of most of the oldest, pure-blood, family tapestries. They were self-updating, for which he was thankful. This meant he could look up the Aubreys and other pure blood or famous families that he had known in his world, such as the Malfoys, Weasleys, and Dumbledores, and search for any discrepancies.

In addition to the family trees, they also had books detailing the finer achievements of most of the significant families. There was a surprisingly large amount of details available that he could use to support his future claims. Harry supposed it made sense for people who put so much weight and importance on their blood lineage and family history to keep pretty solid records, but the fact that so much of it was divulged to the public surprised him.

One afternoon spent at the Genealogy society was enough to confirm that the histories of Erin Aubrey seemed the same between his world and this one. Erin Aubrey had been sorted into Gryffindor. She had turned up missing the same year that Voldemort had been 'vanquished' and Sirius had been sent off to Azkaban. No body had been found but she had been presumed dead.

Erin had also been officially disowned, which meant her line was no longer magically updated on the family tapestry. This was an added boon for Harry since no one could claim that his absence from the family tree proved that he wasn't her son. Harry smirked at the thought of how smoothly his plan would work out. All he needed now were a couple of forged documents that would help validate some of his claims. A quick glance at the clock informed him that it was only 5 PM. Stretching, Harry replaced the books he had been examining in their rightful place and left the building.

Deciding to do something about those documents now rather than later, Harry entered Knockturn Alley to visit a shop whose services he had once used in his world when he had been on the run. It had been handy having some sort of paperwork in a world where being suspected as Harry Potter meant that one was automatically a desired target for anyone who wished to please the megalomaniac that was the Dark Lord.

The shop was dimly lit and dusty, although no bells were heard as he opened the door. Harry sat down on wooden chair to wait for the owner to notice him. It didn't take too long.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? What could you possibly want, little boy?" The shop keeper had a hunched back; his hair was wispy and grey and his expression lines were engraved into his face, an obvious sign of his advanced age. He was simpering at Harry presently, hands clasped, eyes narrowed, tone falsely sweet.

"I need some papers made. I was referred to this shop by some friends…" Harry looked around, letting a disgusted sneer pass across his features. "They said you could do so in strict confidence." He finished, eyes landing on the shopkeeper once more.

"I can keep things in confidence, true, but what sort of papers would someone of _your_ stature require?" inquired the shopkeeper mockingly. Harry winced inwardly; this man would be hard pressed to take him seriously. Even if he attempted to act like a spoiled pure blood aristocrat, his work would not get done. Suddenly he grinned. Then he would have to act like Harry… _plain old Harry_.

An hour later, Harry stepped casually out of the shop feeling amazingly accomplished, the screams of the old man still echoing in his ears. Now he had only to come back tomorrow morning to pick up the papers. Free of charge, the old man had assured him. All it had taken was some fake Parseltongue, a couple of Crucios and a "you dare disrespect the Dark Lord" and his work had been done. The irony was not lost on Harry. 'Voldemort' was aiding in Sirius' release. Harry chuckled; he had to get his kicks from _somewhere_.

**~2~**

"_Please state your name and the nature of your visit to the Ministry of Magic."_

"Orion Aubrey. Meeting with Arthur Weasley," Harry enunciated into the red phone he held up to his ear.

"_Thank you. Welcome to the Ministry of Magic."_

Harry replaced the hand set and a little red badge came out of the coin slot displaying his name and the stated purpose of his visit. He waited, eyes closed, as the phone booth traveled downwards, using the time to take a few calming, deep breaths. Hearing a ding, he opened his emerald eyes as the door swung open with a smooth _swoosh_.

Harry stepped into the Atrium and slipped past the wand checking station with a charming smile. No one expected a wimpy kid to have a wand and Harry gladly took advantage of the ageist fact. He strode confidently and with purpose towards Author Weasley's department. No one glanced at him twice and inwardly Harry couldn't help but scoff at how _simple_ it was. He could have been a Death Eater disguised as a child for pity's sake!

Arthur Weasley did not know he was coming. How could he? Harry had been in this new universe for less than three days. Now he was working on the first step of his plan that would hopefully get his godfather – or who he was now going to be claiming was his father_ –_freed from Azkaban.

Inwardly ranting about the lax security and the overall stupidity of the Ministry, Harry stopped as he reached his destination. He was relieved to see the familiar, although younger than he remembered, redheaded man sitting behind his desk surrounded by stacks of paperwork. Harry knocked on the glass door and Mr. Weasley's head popped up.

The confusion written on his face was plainly visible, but he nodded and waved Harry in regardless.

"Hello, sir. Is your name Arthur Weasley?" Harry inquired as he stepped into the room, closing the glass door behind him.

"Yes." Mr. Weasley confirmed, eyeing Harry curiously. "What can I do for you, lad?"

"My name is Orion Aubrey. I was hoping to speak to you about a rather… _serious_… matter. If you have the time that is…" he trailed off, giving the man his best pleading look.

"Something serious, you say? Well, I can certainly make time. Have a seat." Mr. Weasley said, gesturing towards the seat in front of him with a kindly smile on his face.

"Thank you, sir." Harry said. He took the seat offered as Arthur Weasley moved some stacks of paper aside so the two could have a clearer view of one another.

"Now," Mr. Weasley began, "What is this about, then?"

Harry paused, giving the illusion he was collecting his thoughts. Inwardly however, he knew exactly what he would say, having planned this meeting meticulously in his head beforehand.

"Well," he started, "I know this is going to sound like an incredibly odd question, but please humor me for a minute. Have you by chance seen a fat, grey rat that's missing one toe on its front paw?"

Mr. Weasley leaned back in his chair, thrown off. But then, as he processed the question fully, realization dawned. "Why, yes! My son Percy has a pet that matches that description."

"He's a _pet!_ Really?" Harry exclaimed, sounding shocked and not a little bit horrified.

Mr. Weasley's brows furrowed. "Yes, he is. Why do you ask?"

Harry ignored the question, choosing instead to pose one of his own. "Where did your son get this rat, if I may ask?"

Mr. Weasley was _very_ bewildered now but he didn't hesitate this time. "Percy found him in our garden several years ago."

"How _many years _ago would you say?" Harry pressed.

"Um… well... Merlin, I think it's been about seven years now!"

"Seven _years_ is a pretty long life span for a rat, don't you think Mr. Weasley?"

"I suppose… What is this about, exactly?" Mr. Weasley asked. He couldn't help but feel slightly anxious by what this polite, articulate boy had to say.

"I have cause to believe that the rat you call Scabbers, living with your son, might not actually _be_ a rat."

Now Mr. Weasley's expression began to shift to a mixture of concern and disbelief. "What gives you that idea?"

"I commissioned someone to perform a complex charm to locate a wizard whom I've been searching for. I believe he is an animagus who's been hiding with your family. The charm put his location in your home."

Mr. Weasley paled noticeably. "A wizard? _Really_?" he gasped in a hushed voice. "In hiding, pretending to be my son's _pet?_"

Harry nodded solemnly. "It gets worse, sir. He's actually a _Death Eater._ He's killed _dozens_ of muggles and he was the one who framed my father for that very same crime! I'm trying to prove my father's innocence, you see. But I can't do that until the man who really _did _commit the crimes is found. And I'm pretty sure I've found him."

Arthur Weasley was aghast at this strange revelation. Harry continued, chuckling gleefully in his mind. "My mum always told me my father, Sirius Black, couldn't have been the Potter family's secret keeper."

"_Sirius Black_ is your _father_?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, he is, sir. Anyway, she said it was too obvious. She was of the opinion it was Peter." A pregnant pause followed. Mr. Weasley leaned forward. "Peter Pettigrew."

"You're serious!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed after observing Harry's face for a long moment.

"No, sir. That would be my father." Harry commented wryly with a slight smirk playing on his lips. Mr. Weasley blinked. "The issue at hand, sir, that of Peter Pettigrew, the murdering Death Eater, pretending to be a pet and _sleeping in your son's bed_ for years is one that should be addressed immediately."

A few minutes later found Mr. Weasley and Harry heading to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Luckily for them the woman who headed the department, Amelia Bones, was walking through the very same corridor they were. The unexpected meeting resulted in the three of them sitting in her office with Harry once again recounting his tale.

At first, Bones seemed to be simply humoring Harry and Mr. Weasley. But when she had an Auror pull up the file on Sirius Black, she saw that he had, in fact, been denied a trial and simply been hauled off to Azkaban. _A travesty!_

Her face was solemn as she looked up from the file. "Mr. Aubrey. What occurred to your father is simply unacceptable. It is _disgusting_. As such, you have my word that this case will be re-opened and Mr. Black will receive the fair and just trial he deserved in the first place. Not only that but I personally, along with my two best Aurors, will investigate your claims in regards to Peter Pettigrew."

Harry thanked her and Mr. Weasley profusely. He knew he could count on Madam Bones to find Peter. As much as he would have liked to find the dirty bastard himself (and throw a couple of Crucios his way) that would have complicated matters. He wanted Sirius out of Azkaban with as little hassle as possible; he needed this to be squeaky clean.

Harry wasn't allowed to go with Madam Bones and her Aurors to the Weasley's house to search for the rat, but he had expected that. He informed the adults that he was staying at the Leaky Cauldron, since he had only been in the country for a few days, and Madam Bones promised to contact him if they discovered that his assumptions were correct. He thanked them again and played up the 'I just want to prove my daddy innocent' card before leaving the Ministry with a smile on his face and a spring in his step.

**~2~**

The following morning found Harry examining himself critically in the mirror. He still wasn't very used to seeing the fresh, innocent looking child that he appeared to be. Annoyed with his boyish face, he huffed and left the bathroom. Hearing a knocking sound at his window, he marched over and threw his window open, letting an owl land inside. It landed on a wooden desk, and stuck out its leg to offer Harry the letter it carried.

He quickly worked the letter free. It was addressed to Mr. Orion Aubrey, Room 4, The Leaky Cauldron, Diagon Alley, London. On the back, the envelope was sealed shut with red wax and the Hogwarts emblem stamped on to it. His Hogwarts acceptance letter.

Orion Aubrey. Morrighan had done it; the school really did have him down by another name. He broke the seal and pulled out the sheets of parchment within.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Aubrey,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

It was exactly the same, aside from the Mr. Aubrey bit. He put the letter down on the desk besides the owl. Noticing the tired look the owl gave him, he moved to get it some sort of treat; however, the supply list caught his attention. On first glance, it looked the exact same as the one in Harry's original world but he did a quick double-take on the defense text book.

He was pretty sure that the book that had been assigned his first year had been '_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection' _ by Quentin Trimble, but that wasn't the book listed here. Instead it listed '_Theoretical Introduction of Dark Magic and the Practical Application of its Defense_' by Hecate Terminus.

Definitely worthy of a double-take. Harry had read that book. It was an excellent book_._ But he was stunned to see that it was being used as a textbook. The book, while claiming to only cover a 'theoretical introduction' to the dark arts, still basically provided instruction on dark arts. It was based on the idea that you can't defend yourself against dark magic if you don't know how to cast dark magic or know how it works. With which Harry totally agreed, but it wasn't exactly a Ministry-approved mindset.

It was at this moment that Harry fully comprehended the unusual fact that he was likely to have a competent defense instructor. A smile spread across his face at the thought.

'_The Defense position isn't jinxed here. Whoever's teaching the subject has probably been teaching it for years. It's someone who actually knows what the hell they're doing!'_

His peers wouldn't be completely inept at Defense. That had been one of the most frustrating things to deal with during the war. Everyone who had been instructed at Hogwarts for the last twenty years had had the most pathetic and worthless defense education imaginable. But that wouldn't be the case here, thank Merlin!

With a gleeful laugh, Harry moved again to get the owl the treat it deserved. After he had done so, he took his list, his wand, and his moneybag out into the Alley to get some shopping done. It looked to be a good day.

**~2~**

Four hours later, Harry was ready to hit the hay. He had bought all his required texts for Hogwarts and then some. He had never had much interest to learn on his own but now that he had the time, he may as well do the crime. He had also journeyed to muggle London and gotten some much needed clothing and sneakers. A few more miscellaneous items and Harry was all shopped out. After depositing his bags in his room, he ordered lunch from Tom and began to think as he ate.

He no longer had a cursed scar, which meant one less horcrux to find and destroy. However, working under the assumption that Voldemort had created seven in this world might be risky. There was always a chance that he _hadn't_. After all, things were different here, right? He sighed.

Morrighan had not denied the existence of the Diadem at least. And his scar had also, it appeared, housed a horcrux in this world. So it was likely, although not completely guaranteed, that the others also existed in similar manners. He ticked off the multiple horcruxes in his head.

The scar was taken care of. The diadem's location was currently unknown to him but at least he knew it existed. Salazar Slytherin's locket was most likely at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place or the cave with the inferi. He hoped it was the former, it would be easier to access. If he tried going to the cave alone… he doubted he'd be able to come out in one piece, if at all. Nagini was most likely to be with Voldemort if he was still alive in his wraith state, since he had initially lived off her venom… Tom Riddle's diary would be with Lucius Malfoy, before being passed on to Ginny. There was also the Gaunt ring to consider. One of the deathly Hallows. It had been hidden at the Gaunt place of residence, under a series of complex charms and curses that he doubted he could break on his own. He would also need to validate and find Hufflepuff's cup, which had been in Bellatrix's vault for safe keeping in his world...

Thinking of Bellatrix dredged up unpleasant memories which he hastily pushed aside. He had no confirmation about whether these specific horcruxes were even made. What if Voldemort made 4 here? Or 8? 9? 15? 17? He didn't know! And that was the most frustrating thing about this whole mess. Harry had come a long way from the hero who rushed into action at the mere hint of trouble. He now understood he needed real intelligence… _soon_.

Harry hadn't heard from Madam Bones yet about Pettigrew. He could only hope that the bastard hadn't escaped and was with Voldemort somewhere. That would mean that Voldemort could perform the ritual required to get a body. And with Harry Potter supposedly dead, Voldemort would not be fixated on using a specific enemy for the ritual. That didn't sound good for Harry at all. The only thing Harry would have going for him would be the blood protections. Although, those were next to useless because it would be highly unlikely Voldemort himself would try to attack a young and harmless _Orion Aubrey_. And Harry wasn't ready to go hunt for Voldemort himself.

Pushing his aggravating thoughts out of his mind, he wolfed down his remaining food and decided to figure out at least one thing today. He paid Tom for the lunch before proceeding to walk out of the pub. Blinking at the sunlight that illuminated the outside world, he paused as his eyes adjusted before making a beeline towards the nearest pet shop.

Harry ignored the clerk, who greeted him with a cheery 'good afternoon', and made his way directly towards the reptile section. Barely glancing at the lizards, frogs and salamanders, he stopped in front of a serpent's glass container. Now he could see if he was still a Parselmouth. Focusing on the small but beautiful snake inside, he whispered a tentative 'hello'. Nothing happened. The snake was still lounging in the light.

Harry couldn't stop the disappointed sigh that escaped him. He had gotten to enjoy his Parselmouth ability. Glancing sadly at the snake, he walked out of the shop.

**~2~**

**A/N: Thanks for reading :)**


	3. Finding Sirius

**Disclaimer: Characters and the settings don't belong to me; I'm not making any monetary profit from this.**

**~3~**

The next few days went extremely well, despite Harry getting very little done in terms of planning and plotting. Instead, he used the time to train his magic and feed his body and mind.

It wasn't until half-way through the next week that he finally got an owl from Madam Bones about Pettigrew. She and two Aurors had gone to the Weasleys' house, caught the rat and confirmed that it was, in fact, an Animagus. They had hauled Pettigrew's sorry ass to the DMLE, where he had been forced back into his human form and mercilessly interrogated, both with and without Veritaserum.

Their interrogation had not only established that the rat was Peter Pettigrew, but also that he had been responsible for the deaths of the muggles, the betrayal of the Potters, and the framing of Sirius Black. Madam Bones had personally gone to Azkaban to retrieve Sirius and he was currently resting in the secure ward of St. Mungo's awaiting his appellate hearing.

To say that Harry was stunned with how fast and bloody _easy_ it had been would be a severe understatement. Now it was important to make sure the dirty bastard didn't escape and run off to Voldemort. Not that Harry had any way of preventing that but he crossed his fingers and hoped for the best.

One thing in Madam Bones' letter that especially caught his attention was that she had apparently informed Sirius of Orion Aubrey's role in freeing him. Specifically, he had been informed that it had been his _son _that had caused all this.

'_Whoops...'_

All Harry could do was hope that Sirius hadn't said anything like 'but that's impossible, I didn't even sleep with her that year' when the topic of Erin Aubrey's son appearing out of nowhere, claiming to be Sirius's illegitimate son, was brought up. He would need to visit Sirius soon to clear things up and explain to him who he really was.

Harry was honestly rather overwhelmed that everything had come together so fast. He had not expected to see hide nor hair of Sirius at all that summer. But to have the man freed after only two and a half weeks in this new dimension? Completely unexpected.

The following morning, Harry got up at his normal, obscenely early time to run. He had made it a habit now to run for half an hour every morning. It would help get him back into decent dueling shape, which was essential.

After his morning run, Harry couldn't help but begin to feel nervous. Sirius had already had his trial and Harry had yet to hear the verdict. However, as he was walking back to the Cauldron trying to catch his breath, he saw the heading for that morning's Daily Prophet.

_**MINISTRY INCOMPETENCE EXPOSED!**_

_**SIRIUS BLACK FOUND INNOCENT AFTER TEN YEARS IN AZKABAN!**_

_**PRISONER NEVER RECIEVED TRIAL!**_

Now _this_ was news he had to read. With a smile on his face, Harry picked up a copy, tossing a few knuts onto the counter.

He walked slowly as he read over the article, his smile growing larger with each paragraph. He wondered if he should pay Sirius a visit now or if the man would need some more time to recuperate in St. Mungo's. Part of Harry was anxious to go visit him as soon as possible, but he had to admit that another, even bigger part of him, was terrified of seeing him again. Especially since this wasn't _his_ Sirius. His Sirius had died when Harry was sixteen years old. What if this one was a sad mockery? Harry didn't know what he would do in that case.

Besides... what was he going to say to the guy? 'Hi Sirius, I'm not really your illegitimate son, but I'm actually Harry Potter. No, not the _dead_ one— I'm Harry Potter from an alternate universe (that's conveniently set in the future) and I was sent here by some weird crow goddess who claims that I'm the only one who can save this world from Lord Voldemort. So, how've _you_ been?'

'_Yeah. That would go over real well'_

He shook his head, hoping that somehow that would be enough to clear his head. Harry knew he couldn't postpone this for long; Sirius was a key component of his plans. Delaying visiting would only delay his plans and that was not something Harry wanted to do. The sooner he killed Voldemort, the better. There were lives at stake.

**~3~**

Harry was grumpily dusting the ashes off his dark blue robes. Merlin, he _hated_ the floo. One would think that with magic at his disposal there would be better ways to travel. But _noooo,_ traveling from fire place to fire place was just dandy. _And completely rational._

After nearly thirty minutes of quarrelling with the desk clerk for Sirius' room number, Harry stood in front of an Auror who had been stationed in the hallway to keep media and 'well-wishers' away. Harry gestured to a badge, given to him by the desk clerk, and waited. The guard examined it critically before going inside to ask Sirius if he felt well enough to receive visitors.

Harry stood in the hallway in front of Sirius' room, feeling a powerful mixture of emotions. He was anxious and wary but also extremely excited. He was going to see Sirius again... A living, breathing, and _free_ Sirius!

A pang of remorse shot through him at the remembered loss of his godfather and he had to pull in a deep breath to steady himself. The door opened up then and the Auror came out. He ushered Harry inside, closing the door quietly as he slipped back into the hallway. Harry felt his breath hitch at the sight of his godfather who was sitting up in bed staring at him with wide disbelieving eyes.

"Is it really true?" Sirius whispered in a stunned tone. "Are you... my _son_?"

Harry floundered and felt frozen. There was a strange glow in Sirius's sunken eyes. It looked like... _hope?_ He felt tempted to reply in the affirmative, to keep that look in Sirius' eyes alive. But he knew it would do him no good to lie, so he swallowed and croaked out a simple 'no'.

Sirius looked disappointed, the hope vanishing form his eyes. It dawned on Harry that Sirius had probably been waiting for his son to visit.

"Oh. Who are you?"

Harry pulled his shoulders back; he might as well get this over with. However, looking around, he felt uneasy admitting his true identity in an unprotected room.

"Do you mind if I cast some privacy spells? I'd rather not have this overheard," he explained. Sirius's eyebrow's shot up. No doubt he was surprised that Harry had a wand, let alone the knowledge to cast privacy wards. After all, Harry looked like a ten year old boy.

"Uh. Well... Sure, have a go at it." Sirius replied slowly, bemused. Harry quickly took out his wand and after a few seconds of mumbling incantations and wand flicking, turned his attention back to Sirius who seemed rather impressed.

"Those are pretty solid wards!" He paused, looking at Harry with a critical eye. "How old are you, anyway— Nine? How'd you get a wand?"

Harry huffed, crossing his arms. "I'm _nineteen_. This," he gestured to his body, "is the ten year old version of me."

Sirius blinked. "Uhm. _Right_… I'm starting to think you escaped from your room… It's happened before you know. Not very good security here, to be honest. Wait a second, I'll call the guard. He'll help you to your room." Sirius began to reach for a little red button that was located on the dresser next to his hospital bed.

"Wait a second! At least hear me out! Give me a sec, it'll make sense." Harry said, urgency coloring his voice. Sirius grabbed the button from the table and put it in his lap, eyeing Harry with a strange mixture of amusement and wariness.

"Fine. Introduce yourself. I could use some entertainment, the nurses don't visit quite as often as I'd like… and when they do, it's not to give me a sponge bath. They use _charms_ now. It's pitiful, the state of our nation's hospitals…"

Harry stared unsmilingly for a second, making Sirius feel like a trouble maker again. The boy's emerald eyes reminded him too much of Lily.

"I'm…I'm your godson." Seeing Sirius's disbelief, Harry rushed to finish. "I'm the one who got you freed."

Sirius snorted. "You're definitely out of your mind, kid… Madam Bones told me that it was my _son_ who helped get me released."

"Well, the thing is, I told them I'm your son. There's not really an Orion Aubrey. It's a cover I'm using right now to try and avoid anyone finding out who I really am. Look," Harry raised his yew wand up to his forehead, dispelling the glamours he had put in place with a mumbled finite. "See. I look like a ten year old James Potter, don't I?"

Sirius' gray eyes grew cold. "Harry Potter died five years ago. Don't pull this shit with me."

"The Harry Potter in this world _did_ die." Harry said earnestly, "I'm from another universe. His death was the reason I was sent here. Really, Padfoot—"

"What did you call me?" Sirius interrupted.

"Padfoot. It's your nickname from when you were young." Seeing an opportunity to prove he was who he said he was, Harry hastily continued. "Dad was Prongs, Remus was Moony, and Pettigrew was Wormtail. The nicknames were based on your Animagus forms. Well, except for Moony's…"

"How do you know that?" Sirius demanded in a furious whisper.

"I already told you! I'm Harry Potter! I'm just not from this world. I'm from a... a parallel dimension, or an alternate universe or something. I don't claim to understand it. I was sent here about two weeks ago, right after I'd died in my own world. Some goddess that looked like a crow came to me in the afterlife and offered me a second chance if I was willing to come to this world and fill in for the me that died here."

Sirius' face was stunned but still suspicious.

"My mum and dad, they went into hiding under the Fidelius charm, didn't they?"

"Yes…" Sirius answered grudgingly. "But that's common knowledge."

"But did they tell you _why_? I mean, you know that we were being hunted down by Voldemort, who was specifically after _me_, but did they tell you _why_ Voldemort was after me?" Harry questioned persistently.

Sirius looked suspicious again but nodded his head. "They did mention a reason..."

"A prophecy, right?" Harry prodded.

Sirius's eyes widened. How could this kid, who looked eerily like James with Lily's eyes, know about that? Unless… _could he be telling the truth?_

"The prophecy said that I was the only one who could defeat Voldemort. He's not really dead, even now. His soul was blown out of his body but he's got all these dark magic artifacts that he made to keep himself alive. He's just a spirit now but at some point he's going to find a way to get his body back and when he does, he's going to start up the war all over again. He did it in my world. I was nineteen years old when I killed him. And then I got killed by a killing curse to the back. The goddess I mentioned earlier, Morrighan—"

"Wait, the _Phantom Queen?"_ At Harry's nod, Sirius let a low whistle. Harry grinned. Sirius was finally beginning to believe him.

"Apparently she thought I got a bum deal. I fulfilled my destiny just in time to get killed. She said that she could give me another life but I had to come back to this world and... _do it all over again. _This, I'll admit, isn't exactly an appealing prospect but... what the hell, right? She gave me one hell of a guilt trip by pointing out that this world was basically screwed because my counterpart here is already dead and that apparently Voldemort isn't really dead until he dies in all eleven alternative universes."

Sirius was silent for a moment, chewing over Harry's words. "Wow; that sure gives a new picture on death, that's for sure. Odd to think that there are eleven Sirius Blacks out there."

Harry nodded. "Talk about a head trip, huh? I already know you but now it's like I have to get to know you all over again. I've been having massive deja vu."

"Wait, wait..." Sirius said sitting up straighter, holding up a hand. "So, not only are you from another world but you're also from the _future_?"

"That's right." Harry confirmed.

"And you've been here for three weeks?"

"Just about, yup." Harry said cheerily.

"And in the three weeks that you've been here, you got me out of Azkaban?"

"Shocked the shit out of me too! Maybe that's one of the differences between my world and this one. The Ministry is a thousand times more efficient. Either that or we just got really fucking lucky."

Sirius barked out a laugh and grinned weakly.

"I guess it helped that I knew where Pettigrew was. In my third year at Hogwarts, you broke out of Azkaban and—"

"I broke out of Azkaban?" Sirius looked like someone had confounded him. Harry chuckled.

"Yeah, you did. Slipped out as Padfoot when you figured out where Wormtail was. You thought he might try to harm me as a way to get back into the Death Eater's good graces because they weren't very happy with him either. After all, it was his intel that got their master killed." Harry paused before continuing, a bitter look crossing his face. "He escaped when you finally cornered him. Partly because of me. I was too damn morally up tight to let you kill the bastard. You ended up having to stay on the run from the ministry. They still thought you were a killer and all that hogwash. Your name was never cleared."

"This is so surreal..." Sirius muttered weakly.

"Yeah, I guess it is. It still freaks me out when I look in the mirror and see a ten year old staring back." Harry responded, grinning wryly. "Um, mind if I take a seat?"

"Go ahead!" When Harry was seated next to Sirius' bed, there was silence for a few moments.

"So I don't have a kid…" Sirius said.

"No, sorry. I needed to get you released from Azkaban. I know that place was hell for you… So I thought I'd pose as your illegitimate son. Otherwise, people would have been suspicious if a random kid wanted to get you out. I don't want the scrutiny that would have entailed. I'd had enough of that as Harry Potter. And you made it pretty easy for me too. Ladies' man that you were, it wasn't hard to believe that you had a son somewhere_."_

Sirius grinned wolfishly. "What can I say; it would be a crime to deny the ladies a piece of the handsome, gorgeous hunk that is Sirius Black."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Back in my world Remus told me you had an on and off thing with a girl named Erin Aubrey after Hogwarts. I knew that she'd vanished within months of Voldemort disappearing without anyone ever finding a body or anything. It sounded like a decent enough foundation for a plausible cover story. I put on a few glamours to make me look a bit like you and had a chat with Arthur Weasley. Now here we are."

"What are you gonna tell people who ask where you were? And documentation…? Surely that's an issue?"

"Not really, I just got some forged at Knockturn Alley." Harry answered with a shrug.

Sirius gapped. "You went to _Knockturn Alley_? Do you know how _dangerous_ that is?"

"It's no big deal, Sirius. My magical core is the same. I only _look_ like a ten year old. I can take care of myself." Sirius looked like he was going to disagree but sighed instead. Harry continued to explain Sirius the cover story he was using.

"I'm just telling people that Erin Aubrey's my mum. She found out she was pregnant, didn't want to risk my safety, you were in Azkaban. So she took me out of the country and I lived with her till she died. And since then, I've been working on proving you innocent by trying to locate Pettigrew. I found out he was alive and tracked him down. I returned to Britain and since I'm in the country, I showed up on Hogwarts' registrar. I received my acceptance letter. It came under the name Orion Aubrey, so I guess that worked."

"Huh? How'd you pull that off? Isn't there a super complex charm that's completely impossible to bamboozle?"

"Morrighan." Harry said simply. "She said I had twenty-four hours to pick a name and she'd make sure it got on the registrar. I decided that if I had to do this I wasn't going to do it as Harry Potter. I already endured that crap. Being the Boy-Who-Lived sucked and I have no desire to do it all over again… So is this ok with you?"

"If you pretended to be my son?"

"Er... yes…?" Harry said with an innocent, hopeful smile. If he was stuck in the body of a ten year old, he might as well milk it.

Sirius let out a slow breath. "This is a lot to take in all of a sudden, Harry. I mean, ten years in Azkaban probably hasn't given me the best parenting experience…"

"I'm not looking for a parent, Sirius. I know how to take care of myself; I've been doing it for practically all of my life. The muggles Dumbledore left me with treated me like shit. Hell, they actually managed to kill me in this world. Even when I entered the wizarding world, I was on my own." Harry sighed, running his hand through his shoulder length hair. The both sat in silence for a few minutes, thinking. Finally, Sirius spoke.

"For the last few days I've been under the impression that I had a son who saved me. But now you're telling me that you're actually James' son, Harry— which would be one thing, but you're actually nineteen and from an alternate reality?" he shook his head warily. "It's just a lot to take in…" He paused. "So did you ever live with me in your world?"

"No, but we did keep in contact. I actually spent the Yule holidays with you once at Grimmuald Place. It was nice..."

Sirius frowned. "Only once?"

"You died the following spring. Killed in a Death Eater attack on the Ministry. It was my fault you were there, Voldemort lured me in. You showed up so you could save me but that stupid bitch Bellatrix killed you. She killed me too!"

"Bellatrix, my _cousin_ Bellatrix?" Harry nodded, grimacing. "Wow. I knew she was trouble but to think she'd be the death of me… Kind of hard to swallow. Guess it was a bad sign when she started dismembering her dolls…"

Harry snorted. Sirius suddenly sat up straighter.

"Wait, didn't you kill Voldemort? And she killed you? Is she _stronger_ than him?"

"Nah, she shot me in the back. All those duels with Voldemort and then to die by a curse to back..." Harry shook his head sadly.

"For real? Duels with Voldemort!" Sirius asked with a mixture of stunned disbelief and pride.

Harry chuckled weakly and shrugged. "Yeah. Got pretty desperate there towards the end... I still can't believe it's really over... but then again, I guess it's not. It's only just beginning. Blimey, that sucks." Harry groaned and slumped back in his chair. "At least I know what the fuck I'm doing this time."

"I feel like I should be scolding you for your language. You curse an awful lot for someone who looks like he's only ten."

Harry blinked at Sirius before bursting out laughing. "I guess I'm going to have to watch myself when I get back to Hogwarts. My language has slipped a bit after two and a half years in the trenches."

"Merlin..." Sirius said in a quiet whisper. "So you've been fighting in a war for years, huh?"

"All the really tough stuff started when I was sixteen. Torture, being forced to lead, killing people… That was the year that Dumbledore died, when I was sixteen. The next year the Ministry fell completely. Not that that made much of a difference; the Ministry was pretty useless for _both _sides."

"Dumbledore _died?_" Sirius gasped. "And the Ministry fell?"

"Yeah, but it's not like any of that is going to happen in this world. Or at least I hope it won't. There's still time before things turn really ugly."

"But you're only a _kid_, Harry…"

"I was never only a kid, Sirius. I killed a man with my bare hands when I was eleven. He was my DADA professor, possessed by Voldemort. At twelve, I _killed_ a huge ass basilisk and _then_ I killed a piece of Voldemort's soul, which inhabited a cursed diary, _using that basilisk's venom._ At thirteen, I fought hundreds of Dementors with my Patronus. Fourteen, a death eater snuck into Hogwarts and put my name in the goblet of fire. I had to deal with that and at the end of the year I was abducted by Voldemort and my blood was used in a ritual that returned him to a body but I managed to escape afterwards. Fifteen, you died during the ministry attack that had been my fault_. _When I was sixteen, there was a huge Death Eater attack on Hogwarts and Dumbledore was killed, and I didn't even go back for seventh year because the war had started up. _Took another two years_ of guerrilla warfare to end it."

"Bloody hell and you were the leader of all this? _They made a nineteen year old the fucking leader?_" Sirius cursed in a horrified tone, his voice hoarse.

Harry nodded, a dark, grim expression on his face. "That's one of the reasons I don't want people to know who I am in this world. The whole Boy-Who-Lived shit just gave people an excuse to sit on their lazy asses and give me the chore of cleaning up _their_ mess. And the ridiculous part was they turned on me almost every year." Harry snorted. "Cynics, the lot of them. I guess the only thing they _weren't_ cynical about were themselves."

Sirius' gray eyes blazed with anger. "Well, you may not be my son but I swore I'd look after you as if you were and I'm not going to go back on my word, especially now. If this is the way you want to work things, who am I to argue? You got me out of that hellhole Azkaban. I owe you my life."

"You don't owe me anything, Sirius. You..." Harry paused, ducking his head, "You were the closest thing I ever had to family. I couldn't let you rot in that place." He finished softly.

Sirius cleared his throat. Harry looked up and Sirius, staring determinedly into Harry's emerald eyes, spoke.

"I'm glad the other me made you feel like that, Harry." Sirius grinned crookedly, stormy grey blue eyes still locked on emerald ones, "Whatever you need done from me, I'll make it happen. Just say the words. _I'm here for you."_

Harry looked away feeling a bit overwhelmed by the force with which Sirius spoke those words. It felt… good knowing that someone cared about him. _Maybe this wasn't his Sirius, but he was still Sirius._

The two wizards continued to converse lightly until one of the healers on duty walked in and insisted that Sirius be allowed to rest. And so Harry left, promising he would visit again the following day. He could not help noticing, as he took one last glance at his god father, the soft smile that graced Sirius' face. Feeling oddly emotional, Harry quickly stepped into the hallway, closing the door gently behind him.

Harry could not help the pleased, happy smile that came over his features at the thought of Sirius. Despite being in an alternative reality, he still had someone he could relate with. It felt amazing.

He glanced at his watch. It was only 2 o'clock. He had been at St. Mungo's for 4 hours.

Harry felt a sense of bewilderment pass through him as he considered all that had occurred in just 4 hours. It was _surreal_. He shook his head. Time was a strange invention indeed.

Harry briskly walked to the end of the hall, towards the stairs. He paused, however, when he saw the names of the floor directory, a thought crossing his mind. Were Neville's parents in the permanent resident ward in this world too?

'_I could go check,'_ he supposed. It would be one more thing he'd be sure of in this vastly unknown world. But at the same time, he didn't _really_ want to know. Sighing, he decided to just let it be and walked quickly down the stairs before he could change his mind. Waving good bye to the desk clerk who had let him pass earlier, he walked out of the hospital, relieved. Harry hated hospitals. He'd spent so much time in them; they brought back too many unwanted memories.

Feeling the warm sun on his face felt rather nice and he decided to not worry about things that were out of his control presently, like the horcruxes and the future.

**~3~**

Harry's next visit to Sirius proved just as noteworthy as the first. Sirius had done quite a lot of thinking, having been confined to his bed by the healers. And as he observed Harry come in and close the door, Sirius couldn't help but feel slightly nervous although he tried his best to hide it. Harry casually put up some privacy wards before taking the seat next to his godfather's bed. Noticing the other man's unease, Harry frowned, asking what was wrong.

"Nothing really, Harry. It's just… I was thinking about the discussion we had yesterday and …" Sirius paused, feeling unsure.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "And?" he prodded. Surely Sirius wasn't regretting agreeing to let Harry pose as his son? Harry felt his heart sinking at the thought. However, he kept his disappointment in check and simply stared questioningly at Sirius, waiting.

Sirius' skeleton like fingers began to fiddle with the blanket that was covering his overly thin body. Clearing his throat, he said: "I think we should do a magical adoption."

Harry couldn't stop the shock he felt from showing on his face. A magical adoption? That was a serious thing. He would become Sirius' son in blood, name and magic.

Sirius, who had been watching Harry closely, misread his surprised expression and hastily began to speak again. "I think it'd be safer for you because you wouldn't have to worry about glamours. What if someone cast a finite charm at you? But I understand if it's too big of a step to take. I mean, you wouldn't look like James anymore and I understand if you want to keep your parents—"

"Sirius, no, it's a bloody great idea." Harry cut in, still reeling from the suggestion. "Having to rely on glamours all the time at Hogwarts would be a pain in the ass. It's a brilliant idea but… are you _sure_?"

Sirius grinned widely at Harry, as though someone had told him he was the only male left in a world full of Veelas— which was a very wide grin, indeed.

"Of course I'm sure!" Sirius declared, "If we get things moving fast enough, we could even have it done by the time you head off to Hogwarts. It'll also legally change your name to Orion Black. Have many people have seen you with your glamours?"

"Um… Mr. Weasley, Madam Bones and some shopkeepers in Diagon Alley... but none of the shopkeepers know me as Orion Aubrey. Well, Tom does but that's it. I'm sure they wouldn't notice if I looked a little different…"

"That's great! Since we're going to have to have a middle name for you, as per my families' traditions, do you have any specific one in mind?" Sirius inquired. Harry blinked.

"Middle name?" he echoed blankly. "Never really thought it was a big deal…" Harry disclosed, scratching his head sheepishly.

"Hmmm. I guess I'll have to think of one…" Sirius hummed and began to mumble names under his breath, testing out the rhythm of the names to see if any were a good match with 'Orion Black'. "It needs to be one of the longer constellations. A two syllable middle name just doesn't flow well with Orion as the first name..." He mused aloud, eyebrows furrowed in thought.

Harry watched silently, smiling. It was nice, Sirius' interest.

"Orion Perseus Black. Not terrible... Orion Scorpius Black... not too bad either. Orion Reticulum..." Harry winced and Sirius grinned at his reaction. "That sounds stupid. Orion Centaurus... Nope… Hey, there's a constellation called Phoenix! Orion Phoenix Black," He recited, enunciating each name, testing it out. "What do you think, Harry?"

"Orion Phoenix Black, huh? That sounds good!" Harry confirmed, smiling. "It's appropriate too. The whole rising from the ashes of death thing phoenixes tend to do… It suits me!"

"Alright, it's settled then. I'll contact the goblins by owl and schedule the magical adoption ceremony."

"The goblins?" Harry echoed curiously.

"Yeah, they'll be able to keep this confidential. Much better than doing it here or at the ministry. The goblins don't answer to wizards."

Harry nodded, remembering Morrighan saying something similar. Suddenly an idea struck him. "The Potter vaults! If you're my guardian, you can access those!"

"I don't need your money, Harry." Sirius protested with a frown. Then his face broke out in a sly smirk. "Besides, I plan on suing the Ministry for my stay in Azkaban. Those guys are going to pay through their noses. Not that I need the money..."

"I know you don't need the money. It's just that I'd like to gain access to those vaults before I turn seventeen and this will let that happen, right?"

Sirius blinked. "You've got me there."

"So where are we going to live after you're released? I guess we could go to Grimmauld Place, but... uh... _ew_?" Harry finished with a grimace.

Sirius laughed and agreed. "It is a pretty awful place."

"Now that you're free, you should have access to the Black vaults. And I have the money from the Potter trust fund… and the Potters have some properties that were in pretty good shape in my world at least… I'd rather not live in a house that's as infested with _uck_ as Grimmauld Place is."

"Infested with uck," Sirius repeated with a snicker. "I haven't set foot in that house in _years_. I can only imagine what sort of state it's in after being empty for so long."

"Not empty. Kreacher's been there, slowly going insane."

"Oh _Merlin_, I forgot about him!"

"Yeah well… I don't know what to think about that elf so I'd rather avoid him for now…" Harry muttered a slight scowl on his features.

Sirius was interested as to why Harry felt like that but he decided that he could ask some other time. '_Besides_,' he thought happily, '_Harry's actually going to be living with me!_ Sirius would have plenty of opportunities to get to know him.

"I'd rather we get a new house. I'd like a place of my own. We can look around during the summer." Sirius suggested.

"Aright, sure," Harry consented, his face brightening up at the thought.

It was then that a healer entered. She didn't look surprised to see Harry there, assuming on sight that it was little Orion Aubrey who she knew had helped get Sirius released.

"Mr. Black, it's time for your daily potions." She declared, referring to the seven vials she had on a tray next to a glass of water. Sirius made a face, causing Harry to smile sympathetically. He knew how bad healing potions tasted; he had had plenty during the war. It was one of the many reasons he hated hospitals.

'_You would think that the brilliant potions masters who invented them could at least make them taste tolerable…'_

"Awww but Healer Blackburn, I feel fine…." The healer snorted, eyeing Sirius' protesting face in disbelief.

"Ten years in Azkaban can't be undone with just a few nights of rest, Mr. Black. The blue vial first, if you will." Sirius grimaced before doing as he was instructed. He did the same for the next six potions until he was finally done. Healer Blackburn nodded in satisfaction, handing him a clear glass of water.

"Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" she remarked as she cast a variety of healing diagnostic spells on Sirius. "Those potions will help you get healthy. You're so skinny… But that's to be expected from someone who spent ten years in Azkaban… Right, I believe everything's in order." She announced, smoothing Sirius's blanket and picking up the tray that held the empty potion vials. "I'll be back again at six, Mr. Black."

Sirius called goodbye as the healer made an exit before turning back to Harry.

"That blue potion was a sleeping drought, so… unless you enjoy my company enough to watch me sleep, which wouldn't be surprising because I know I'm rather charming, you should leave."

Harry nodded and stood up, straightening his robes. "Alright, Sirius, see you tomorrow. I'll go and find out the details for the adoption at Gringotts." Sirius, who was already feeling drowsy, agreed and so Harry left, softly closing the door behind him.

**~3~**

The next week passed by quickly. Harry continued his newly established routine of getting up at the crack of dawn and jogging up and down Diagon Alley before showering, eating breakfast and then flooing to St. Mungo's. He ran a few documents back and forth between Sirius and Gringott's to iron out the finer details of the impending adoption. After eight days passed, the Healers at St. Mungo's finally agreed to release Sirius from their care.

"Merlin, it feels good to be out in the hustle and bustle of the magical world…!" Sirius exclaimed happily as the pair stepped into Diagon Alley. "The adoption is happening today, isn't it?"

"Yup. But we have a little time before then; it's at three. How about we get some ice cream?" Harry smirked when Sirius nodded excitedly.

"Ice cream! Bloody hell, I haven't had any for ten years! Believe it or not, it's not on the menu at Azkaban…"

"Then let's go." Harry said. But he did not have to say anything. Sirius was already eagerly heading towards Fortescue's. Chuckling at Sirius' antics, he ran to catch up and the two disappeared in the crowd.

**~3~**

**A/N:** **Thanks for reading!**


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